


The Road Less Traveled

by Banshee1013



Series: The Road Less Traveled [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Canon Universe, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff and Smut, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Light Angst, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oral Sex, Post Season 15, Post-Canon, Retired Hunter Dean Winchester, Road Trips, Sensation Play, Suptober 2020 (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27465916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banshee1013/pseuds/Banshee1013
Summary: Fic and art created forSaltyWords aka the incomparable Jackie (winchester-reload)'s Suptober 2020, originally posted on my Tumbler during the month of October.Set after the events of 15x09 (and my DCRB 2020Ten Inch Hunter), the battle for the world is over; Dean, Sam, Eileen, and Cas are mostly training other hunters or going on the very occasional hunt and Dean is SO. VERY. BORED. So he packs the cooler and hits the road with his ex-angel to see what they can see.Each Chapter fills the following Prompts, in order:Day 1 - On The Road AgainDay 2 - EarthDay 3 - DemonicDay 9 - ElectricDay 10 - Sweet RidesDay 11 - Rock n RollDay 12 - RewindDay 13 - LadiesDay 14 - Fun and GamesDay 15 - Third EyeDay 16 - Switch It UpDay 21 - FearDay 22 - "I cursed the gloom that set upon us, but I know that I love you so."
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester (mentioned)
Series: The Road Less Traveled [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090148
Comments: 34
Kudos: 87





	1. On The Road Again

**Author's Note:**

> All fic and art for the listed prompts have been created, but each chapter/prompt fic is going through a final edit/beta cycle and will be posted after. I anticipate an update every few days but that depends on the swiftness of my betas and life getting in the way of reviewing/committing their awesome suggestions.  
> There are also two more that have been written but the art is not complete, and one more which is planned and will be added in the future. I'll update the prompt list above when those are posted.
> 
> Betas for this chapter are [Oriana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oriana1990) and [sacados](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacados), thank you both SO, SO MUCH.

Castiel startles, distracted from his reading as a loud clatter coming from the Bunker’s kitchen shatters the looming silence.

Things have been very quiet since Chuck was defeated, with Jack watching over Heaven, Rowena watching over Hell, Benny ruling Purgatory, and Billie keeping the Shadow company in The Empty. Oh, there are still hunts, but they’re few and far between. Without Chuck to twist creatures to his storytelling needs, they have been more or less content to live their lives like regular citizens. Castiel has been occupying his non-hunt downtime reading everything the Men of Letters’ vast Library contained and exploring his new humanity - his Grace having been sacrificed in the battle against Chuck.

Dean had gone to great measures to make this new human existence of his as pleasurable as possible — introducing him to new flavors in both food and drink, new activities... and many new and different carnal pleasures. 

Cas closes his book — the Library’s very special edition of _Alice In Wonderland_ , of particular interest to him due to its role in returning Dean to full size after their encounter with a witch earlier this year — sets it upon the table before him and rises, heading to the kitchen to investigate the disturbance.

Turning into the kitchen doorway, he is greeted by the enjoyable sight of Dean bent over in front of the refrigerator, jeans stretched tight over his superior posterior. He smirks at his own thought — “superior posterior”. Rhymes always please him greatly, especially when they’re his own.

Tearing his eyes reluctantly away, he notices the possible source of the earlier clattering noise — the green cooler, most commonly occupying the back seat of the Impala, now sits on the kitchen island, lid open. As he ponders the significance of the appearance of the cooler outside of its normal environment, Dean rises from his rummaging, packages of cold cuts and cheese in his hands, and turns toward the cooler on the island. His eyes raise and catch Castiel’s.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean’s remarkable green eyes sparkle in the warm light of the kitchen, and the corners of his mouth pull up into a bright smile. 

Lips...very distracting, Castiel notes to himself. Very distracting indeed.

“Uh... Earth to Cas? You in there, Major Tom?” Dean waves at him, breaking Castiel’s stare and diverting his gaze from Dean’s distractingly full lips, back up to his equally distracting eyes. 

He takes a moment to contemplate the pros and cons of his new-found humanity and the increased sensory input now available to him. While inconvenient and often overwhelming, he now has the ability to admire not only Dean’s soul but every other part of him as well — and to experience the joy of falling madly in love with him. 

He feels his own lips pull into a smile matching Dean’s own. “I am still on Earth, and also understand that reference.” His smile widens at his own joke. Jokes are also very enjoyable, even his subpar ones; especially when they cause Dean to laugh the way he is now. 

“Dammit, I love you so much, Cas,” Dean says, recovering from his outburst. “Never, ever change.” 

“I will do my very best to not change, unless the change improves my ability to make you laugh.” Ignoring Dean’s snort, he addresses the subject at hand. “I heard a noise and came to investigate.” He gestures toward the open cooler. “I assume the presence of the cooler and the sandwich ingredients in your hands means you are planning a trip.” 

“Got it in one, hot stuff,” Dean says, tossing the lunchmeat and cheese into the cooler and closing the lid. 

Castiel tilts his head in confusion, and not from Dean’s insinuation that his body temperature is elevated (he gets that reference as well). “Is there a hunt I was not aware of? I thought Sam and Eileen were occupied with one, have you found another?”

Dean snorts again. “The only thing Sam and Eileen are ‘hunting’” — fingers hooking the air for emphasis, much to Castiel’s amusement — “is a good place to play ‘hide the sausage’ other thanwhere his brother and ex-angel boyfriend are playing the same game.” 

Castiel nods in commiseration - the Bunker may be isolated, but it is not soundproof. However - “What if a hunt comes up?”

Dean waves a hand dismissively. “Plenty of hunters in the sea.” He strides over to Castiel, placing refrigerator-cool hands around Castiel’s neck and pressing their foreheads together. “We defeated Chuck, Cas. Let someone else handle the bit players.”

With Dean this close, Castiel can barely string together a coherent thought, let alone an objection. 

“I’ve packed beer, pie, condiments, sandwich fixings, chips, and a loaf of the bread I made yesterday in there,” he says, pulling back slightly to tilt his head toward the cooler. “And clothes and stuff already in the trunk. Whaddaya say we hit the road, sweetheart?” 

Castiel stares into those emerald irises and can deny him nothing. 

“Where will we go?”

Dean shrugs, his thumbs caressing Castiel’s cheeks. “Thought we might head west, see what we can see. Get some coffee in Seattle, wine in Napa Valley, hit the beaches in Monterey, fish tacos in San Diego... I dunno.” He presses a swift, sweet kiss to Castiel’s lips, pulling back and leaving him wanting more. 

“Let’s just see where the road takes us. You in?”

Castiel nods dumbly. Of course he’s in. 

Dean smiles again, and with a brush of fingertips across his cheek, turns away from Castiel and ambles to the kitchen island, hoisting the cooler from the counter and heading out the door to the garage.

Castiel follows. He’s followed Dean to Hell and would do so again in a heartbeat if Dean required it of him. 

A road trip is definitely preferable.


	2. Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dean had proposed the road trip, he really hadn’t planned the route out. All he cared about at the time was getting the hell outta Dodge before he went insane from boredom.
> 
> But once on the road, he’d known just where their first stop had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for Suptober Day 2 - Earth.
> 
> Once again, thanks to my fabulous betas, [Oriana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oriana1990) and [sacados](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacados) <3<3<3

“This was a wonderful idea, Dean. It’s very beautiful here.” 

Cas sighs in contentment against Dean’s shoulder. Dean drops a kiss on the top of his head and pulls him closer, his fingers drifting from Cas’ shoulder to run idly through his hair.

When Dean had proposed the road trip, he really hadn’t planned the route out. All he cared about at the time was getting the hell outta Dodge before he went insane from boredom.

But once on the road, he’d known just where their first stop had to be. 

They’re sitting on a blanket, backs propped against the Impala, on the side of a nondescript road just off I80 outside of Gothenberg, Nebraska. A line of maple trees rises in the distance, swaying in the gentle breeze.

In the foreground is a slab of concrete. All that remains of Harvelle’s Roadhouse. 

Nature had reclaimed the surrounding area, replacing the dirt parking lot with a field of rolling prairie grass. And, somehow, bushes of flaming yellow-orange Black-Eyed Susans sprouted all around the concrete slab.

Over the last few years, Dean had often found himself here; sometimes with Sam, but more often just by himself. It was Ash’s last resting place — and if there had been anything left of Ellen and Jo after the showdown in Carthage, he would have brought them here as well. 

Dean’s not a sentimental guy (or so he tells himself), but the riot of Black-Eyed Susans makes him feel like they might have made it back here anyway.

But Cas has never been here. Even though he knew Ellen and Jo (though he never got to meet Ash — now _that_ meeting would have been hilarious), somehow he had always been somewhere else when Dean had come here. Dean knew that was something he needed to correct.

Now they sit in the late afternoon sunlight, the remnants of their picnic lunch next to them; ham and swiss for Dean, PB&J for Cas (one of the perks of being mostly-human again — Cas’ beloved PB&J no longer tastes like molecules). The noises Cas made while devouring it were rapturous enough to both turn Dean on and make him wonder if it was wrong to be jealous of a sandwich.

Dean takes another pull from the bottle of beer in his hand and lets himself be lulled by the peace and beauty around him.

He’s stirred from his reverie by Cas pulling away from his shoulder, shifting to his knees and crawling slowly to the edge of the blanket, where a smaller bush of Black-Eyed Susans cheerily waves in the breeze. Dean follows his gaze and sees, perched upon one of the blooms, a plump fuzzy bumblebee.

Dean watches, puzzled, as Cas approaches the bee, crouching further to be at eye level with it. The bee trundles around the center of the flower, and Cas continues to watch, his blue eyes wide with wonder and lips curling up in delight. 

The bee, apparently satisfied with its pollen load, rises from the flower, and Cas rises with it. It sails away, the buzz of its wings resonating in the stillness of the afternoon — and Cas follows.

Cas follows the bees.

And Dean follows Cas.

The bee floats on the air and lights upon another Black-Eyed Susan on one of the bushes near the Roadhouse’s foundation. Cas stops but does not kneel, for suddenly he is surrounded by bees. 

They don’t land on him; instead, one by one, they fly close and then dart away, as if sensing something wonderful and strange that must be investigated. Cas stands perfectly still, a look of pure joy on his face, and Dean’s breath catches in his chest. 

For a moment Dean sees Castiel, Angel of Thursday and Shield of God, as he was millennia ago when he walked the Earth and mankind was not even an inkling of a thought. A shaft of sunlight reflecting through the trees catches him and sets his dark hair lit in gold like a crown, sets his blue eyes aglow. 

And then just as suddenly, the sun darts behind a cloud, the bees scatter and fly away, and it’s Cas, the love of Dean’s life, who turns to stare at him, the look of joy and wonder still shining on his face. 

“Of all my Father’s deeds, for good or ill, isn’t the Earth the most magnificent of them?” Cas asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “The most beautiful?” 

Dean approaches Cas slowly and wraps him up in his arms.

“Yeah, it’s pretty great,” he whispers into Cas’ ear, and smiles at the shiver that rolls down Cas’ spine. “Almost as beautiful as you.”


	3. Demonic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Reality? If that were the case, it wouldn’t be called ‘Devils Tower’,” a high, lilting voice calls from the back seat. “Lucifer had nothing to do with this monstrosity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for Suptober Day 3 - Demonic.
> 
> Thanks and apologies to my long-suffering betas, [Oriana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oriana1990) and [sacados](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacados) <3<3<3

“So, whaddaya think, Cas? Awesome, right?”

Castiel squints through the Impala’s windshield at the monolith looming in the distance.

“There does not appear to be any sign of extraterrestrial activity in the vicinity. Are you sure this is the correct Devils Tower?” 

The squint turns into a scowl and is redirected toward the driver’s seat as Dean barks a loud guffaw. “That was a movie, Cas.” He gestures out the windshield. “Reality.” His mirth appears to fade to contrition, but the flash in his green eyes belies any form of actual remorse. 

Still, Castiel is unable to remain annoyed at him, the slight flush on Dean’s cheeks from barely-contained laughter accentuating the freckles which Castiel finds unbearably endearing. 

“Reality? If that were the case, it wouldn’t be called ‘Devils Tower’,” a high, lilting voice calls from the back seat. “Lucifer had nothing to do with this monstrosity.”

Dean’s eyes widen to match his own and they both turn toward the sound of the voice, where a tiny redheaded woman perches primly in the back seat of the Impala. Her matte red lips stretch into a feral grin. 

“Hello, boys.”

As one, they tear open the doors and leap from the Impala, Castiel pulling Ruby’s knife from the inside pocket of his hoodie. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dean on the other side, weapon in hand and aimed at Rowena. 

The grin fades into a pout, her eyes rolling. “Honestly, Dean? Is that any way to greet your dear Auntie Rowena?”

“Why are you here?” Dean growls tightly, his aim unwavering. 

Rowena gives an exaggerated sigh and opens the back door. Castiel moves quickly around the back of the Impala to flank her as one sparkling red pump emerges, followed by the other; and Rowena slides out, the red sequins on her gown flashing in the afternoon sun. Demurely closing the car door, her expression falls into a moue of feigned vexation.

“I merely wanted to check in with my favorite Winchester and his pet angel.” She turns to Castiel, a dainty, finely-manicured hand flying to her mouth in mock dismay. “Oh dear. I meant, pet EX-angel,” she says, winking.

Turning back to Dean, she sighs again at his continued defensive posture and stamps a petite foot. “REALLY, Dean. If I meant you harm, you would already be pinned to the ground.” 

Dean sighs and lowers his weapon. Castiel follows suit, returning the knife to his inside pocket, and moves to Dean’s side. 

Rowena’s hazel eyes twinkle and she claps her hands in delight. “I see you took my advice to heart!” Her gaze falls on Castiel and he squints in return. “What, lose the trench coat with your grace, angel?” She waves a dismissive hand at Dean’s growl. “Shush, I mean nothing by it.” Her eyes take Castiel in from head to toe - dark blue hoodie over Dean’s AC/DC shirt, a pair of worn, comfortable jeans and dark brown boots similar to Dean’s own. Cas annoyingly finds himself squirming under her scrutiny.

“Hmm, I see your influence all over him, Dean.” She giggles at her own innuendo, then sobers; leveling a surprisingly soft, honest smile at Castiel, she says, “You finally look comfortable in your own skin. It suits you.”

She draws herself up then, her diminutive stature giving way to the full regality of the Queen of Hell; her brow pinched thoughtfully and a manicured finger tapping her lips as her eyes fall on the monument over their shoulders. They turn to follow her gaze. 

“Perhaps it is appropriately named after all - formed of cooled lava, which is of course heated by small leaks of Hellfire.” She hums approvingly. “It can stay.” 

Castiel hears a _whoosh_ , and they both turn to find Rowena has vanished just as abruptly as she appeared.

Dean groans and scrubs a hand over his face. Castiel moves to his side and presses a gentle kiss to Dean’s lips. Taking his hand, he pulls Dean to the front of the Impala and leans against her hood. After a moment, Dean joins him, releasing Castiel’s hand to wrap an arm across his shoulders and pull him close.

Castiel leans into him, relishing the warmth of Dean’s body against his own, and lays his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“Regardless of the lack of an extraterrestrial presence, it really is quite magnificent,” Castiel murmurs into Dean’s neck, the monument reflecting gold and orange in the rays of the setting sun. 


	4. Electric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rain pounds on the roof of the cabin, and Dean’s heartbeat pounds in time.  
> A flash of brilliant light erupts through the window, and he counts Cas’ breaths against his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for Suptober Day 9 - Electric.
> 
> Thank you [sacados](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacados) for making my drivel better <3

_Darker than the ocean, deeper than the sea_

_You got everything, you got what I need_

_Touch me, you're electric, babe_

  


The rain pounds on the roof of the cabin, and Dean’s heartbeat pounds in time. 

A flash of brilliant light erupts through the window, and he counts Cas’ breaths against his lips. 

_One one thousand… two one thousand…_

He quickly loses track as Cas moves in him, their breaths rising and breaking against each other. 

The thunder rolls outside, the vibrations of the walls adding to the rhythmic movements of the mattress under him and the soft moans rumbling through Cas’ chest pressed against his. 

  


_Move me, take me from this place_

_Movin' to the tempo, show me what it takes_

_Speedin' up my heartbeat, playin' in the face_

  


Cas’ body glides against Dean’s with the beat of the rain as it begins to fall harder, faster. Dean moves with him, caught up in his cadence, his fingers playing a staccato rhythm up and down Cas’ back. His heart surges to an allegro beat.

  


_Kiss me, we're on fire, babe_

_Love me, take me to outer space_

  


Lips, hot and wet, press against Dean’s and he falls into them; falls until he’s soaring, swept up like a kite in a storm, burning like a lightning-struck key. His fingers buried in Cas’ hair ground him like a kite string.

  


_Covered in your water and I'm feelin' like a summer breeze_

_Submitted under power and you brought me to my knees_

_Use me, you're electric, babe_

  


The rhythm strengthens, lengthens; Cas raising the tempo to fortemente and carrying Dean along, helpless as a cork in a torrent. He submits, letting it flow over him and through him, awash in the tempest of sensation. 

Another incandescent flash through the window and Cas’ sweat-slick body scintillates in argent light, hair shining in a halo-like glow and eyes flashing blue-white. Static electricity in the air sparks down his body and onto Dean’s, and for a moment he forgets to breathe.

  


_Move me, take me all the way_

_Whisper in my ear, I'm the only one you're lovin' on_

_Take advantage of the moment, you're the only one that I want_

  


Words of love and desire and need brush against Dean’s ears and are pressed into him with every movement and touch of Cas’ body. The tempo increases yet again, lifting towards a crescendo, Cas’ gasps and moans in harmony and counterpoint to Dean’s.

  


_Melting like ice on a summer day_

_Hold me like you mean it, take me far away_

_Bodies movin' and temperature rising_

_Take me to the top then watch me fall in_

  


Heat and pressure coil low in Dean’s abdomen, the heat rising off his and Cas’ body in waves. Cas falls upon Dean, clutching him tight and gasping against his neck as the tempo begins to stutter.

A crack of thunder reverberates through the room, the bass rumble vibrating the bed sending Dean catapulting over the edge and bringing Cas along with him. Dean falls until he floats, Cas’ gasps hot against his neck until his lips, hot and dry against Dean’s own, brings him back to earth. 

The rain slows, the pattering against the roof and Cas’ slowing heartbeat against his skin lulls Dean, and he melts into sleep. 

  


_Touch me, use me, love me; we’re electric, babe._


	5. Sweet Rides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the… Cas, I think I’m gonna be sick.” 
> 
> No, it wasn’t from the burgers — Dean hadn’t even gotten to those yet. He’s not even sure if he can. 
> 
> As they pulled into the parking area for Dick’s Drive-In, he had slammed on the brakes, Baby coming to a sudden stop with a squeal of rubber on pavement at the sight before him.
> 
> The parking lot was full — like, _FULL_ — of Impalas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for Suptober Day 10 - Sweet Rides.
> 
> My betas [Oriana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oriana1990) and [sacados](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacados) beat the hell out of this thing for me. Y'all continue to astound and amaze. <3 <3

Dean’s fingers drum a one-handed beat on the steering wheel, keeping time with John Bonham coming over the speakers. His other hand, resting on the bench seat next to him, is loosely entwined with Cas’. 

After their rainy weekend interlude at Rufus’ cabin, Cas has been extra hands-on — never out of contact with Dean in one way or another for very long — and Dean has zero complaints with this development.

Giving a quick squeeze, he disengages his hand from Cas’ and flips the turn signal, sliding into the lane for I-5 North. 

Cas, up to this point, has been focused on the passing scenery with half-lidded eyes and a soft smile, quiet and seemingly lost in thought. Dean had squeezed his hand a few times during the eight hour drive from the cabin, checking to see if he’d dropped off, but every time Cas had turned to him, returning the squeeze; the look in his eyes full of love and warmth, and Dean will do _anything_ to keep Cas looking at him like that. 

This time, Cas turns to him, but his eyes are now full of curiosity. 

“I-5 North? I thought you wished to go south after we reached the west coast?”

“Thought we’d make a pit stop first.” Dean smirked to himself, recalling the conversation with Sam yesterday when he’d called to check in and found out they were headed to Seattle... 

* * *

_“Seattle, huh? Helluva drive just to get some Starbucks!” Sam snorted, his voice echoing slightly with the speakerphone on so he can sign the conversation to Eileen._

_“Haha, Sammy. No way am I getting Starbucks in Seattle - that’s like going to Italy and getting McDonalds.” Dean paused, glancing over his shoulder toward the bedroom, the Cas-shaped blanket-covered lump in the bed still unmoving, and silently cursed himself for not setting his phone on silent._

_He desperately wanted to be back under the covers with Cas._

_“So, everything alright? I gotta go, things to do.” More like someONE to do, Dean thought._

_Sam did not sound convinced but didn’t push the issue. “Nah, all good here. Eileen and I are back at the bunker and just wanted to make sure you didn’t end up in a ditch somewhere.” Sam chuckled at his own joke, then continued, “Hey, I know where you should go… y’know, when you get to Seattle.”_

_Dean sighed - now that he knew nothing was wrong, he was tempted to feign a bad connection and hang up - but he was genuinely curious to find out what Sam was going to suggest. “Yeah? Do tell.”_

_“You should get some Dick’s.”_

_“Hahaha very funny, “ Dean growled, and moved to hang up when Sam yelled, “Wait, WAIT!”_

_“WHAT?” Dean grimaced at the volume of his voice and glanced over his shoulder again. Cas stirred and rolled over but didn’t wake. “What?” he said again, quieter._

_“I mean, you should go have some Dick’s.” Sam giggled, and Dean heard Eileen's soft laugh in the background._

_“Okay, that’s it. I’m outta here.” Dean pulled the phone back from his ear once again and started to hang up when he heard Eileen’s voice,“Dean, wait!”_

_With a mighty sigh, he put the phone back to his ear and heard a smack in the background; an open palm against muscle and cloth, followed by Eileen’s voice: “Stop BEING a dick and tell him.”_

_“Okay, okay. You guys are no fun.” Sam spoke into the phone again. “It’s a fast food place out there. ‘Best burgers in America’ according to Esquire Magazine.”_

* * *

Cas’ brow pinches in confusion and it’s _still_ the most adorable thing _ever_. “Pit stop? Why are we stopping for pits?” His eyes narrow. “Are they peach pits? Do you need to distill cyanide from them?”

Dean can’t help himself - he outright guffaws. “No, no cyanide, why would I… I mean, we’re making a detour, stopping somewhere here in Seattle before heading south.” 

“Ah, very well then.” Cas tilts his head. “Is it for coffee? I hear Starbucks is headquartered here, I suppose acquiring some from the original source might be interesting.” 

“NO Starbucks… seriously, why does everyone…” Dean pauses, then carefully schools his face into a serious expression. “We’re going for Dick’s.” 

“ _EXCUSE ME?”_

“BURGERS!” Dean manages to gasp out as he gets the laughter under control. “It’s a burger place Sam told me about. ‘The most life-changing burger joint in America’, or so Esquire Magazine would have you believe.” Turning to Cas, he arches an eyebrow. “But I’ll be the judge of _that_.”

* * *

“What the… Cas, I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

No, it wasn’t from the burgers — Dean hadn’t even gotten to those yet. He’s not even sure if he _can_. 

As they pulled into the parking area for Dick’s Drive-In, he had slammed on the brakes, Baby coming to a sudden stop with a squeal of rubber on pavement at the sight before him.

The parking lot was full — like, _FULL_ — of Impalas.

Black 1967 Impalas to be exact. DOZENS of them, all in a row.

Some had their trunks open, the inside of the lids decorated with devil traps and wards. Others had green coolers nearby, identical to the one in his backseat. 

The squeal of tires had drawn the attention of the people gathered around. One in particular waves and makes his way over to them.

“Oh shit, no no no…” Dean mutters, then quickly plasters on a wan smile as the guy approaches his window and leans on the sill. 

“Hey there, I’m Davis, President of the Seattle chapter of the Supernatural Haunted Impalas Club.” Dean glances down at the man’s outstretched hand, briefly considers peeling rubber out of the parking lot and reluctantly decides against it — the last thing they need is an APB out on them for decapitating a guy in full view of witnesses — and takes the guy’s hand. 

“Hi, uh… De.. Daniel. I”m Daniel… uh, Dan, and this is… “ Releasing the guy’s… Davis’... hand, he turns to Cas, eyes wide and imploring. 

Thankfully, Cas gets it. “Calvin,” Cas says, taking Davis’ hand and giving it a solemn shake — up and down, twice, and a quick release — “You can call me Cal.” 

Davis blinks, then gives them a broad smile. “Nice to meet you boys. We’re all just parked over there, find a spot and come say hi!” He leans back, his smile widening. “Nice cosplay, by the way — Dean, I presume, and you must be Endverse Cas, am I right?” He throws finger-guns and a wink before turning to head back to the group.

“We should leave… yeah, we should definitely get the HELL OUTTA HERE…” Dean looks over his shoulder, trying to figure out the quickest way to bail on the situation; but just then, a loud rumble erupts from Cas’ stomach. 

“Dean…” Cas sighs. “I’m very hungry, and you promised me a life-changing burger.” He gestures at the group, many of whom are now actively watching them. “And they’ve already noticed us. We might as well go and order the burgers, and then make an excuse to leave.” He drops puppy-dog eyes to rival Sam’s, and Dean knows he has no recourse but to go through with the charade — at least long enough to get a burger.

“FINE. We’ll order the burgers, make nice with locals while they’re cookin’, and then get the hell outta Dodge.” 

Dean pulls into a spot at the end of the long line of Baby Wanna-Bes. No sooner have they climbed out and closed the doors, than a bubbly brunette bounces over to them. 

“Hey guys, you look great! And wow, your Baby is GORGEOUS! What’s her name?” She claps a hand over her mouth in dismay. “Oh, of course, I shouldn’t assume gender. What’s your Baby’s name?” 

Dean’s lips part but nothing comes out, at a loss for words — then, “Baby.” 

The bouncy brunette blinks, then nods, the smile returning. “Uh, great! Awesome!” She extends her hand. “I’m Brittany, and this is my girl, Gertrude,” indicating the Impala parked next to them. 

Dean has to admit — Gertrude is in _great_ shape. “Hi, Brittany, I”m De… Dan.” He passes an admiring gaze over the car. “She’s beautiful.” 

Brittany blushes fiercely. “Thank you so much! She’s my pride and joy.” 

Dean can’t help but grin; he gets it. “I know how you feel.” He starts toward the car, his interest piqued now.

Cas grabs his elbow. “Dean… uh, DAN,” he stammers. “We should order our food first.” 

“Oh, right! Of course.” He turns back to Brittany. “Give us a moment? We’re starving.” 

Brittany nods like her head is on a swivel. “OH of course! We’re not going anywhere, go feed your boyfriend!” She turns back to Gertrude and strikes up a conversation with another couple. 

They make their way to the order counter with no further distractions and order their food, both choosing the “Dick’s Deluxe” with fries and milkshakes, then wander over to the group of Impala owners. 

By the time their food is ready, Dean is genuinely surprised at how much fun he’s actually having — the Impala owners are friendly and _really_ know their cars, the pride of ownership evident — and Dean can’t help but respect that. However, they of course are also just as fanatical about Chuck’s books, which Dean struggles to hide his discomfort with. 

As they head back to the counter to pick up their food, Dean turns to Cas. “I dunno about all this, Cas — they’re really into Chuck’s books and they have _no idea_ what a tool he was.” His head drops with a sigh. “Should we tell them?” 

“No, Dean.” Cas looks back over his shoulder at the group, their laughter and happy voices carrying across the parking lot. “They’re happy. The books have brought them together, given them friendship — a family, even.” He shakes his head. “Chuck used those words to manipulate you, but they have no power over you — over US — anymore. This way, they serve a good purpose.” 

Dean blinks - he hadn’t thought of it that way. Of course Cas is right. 

“Yeah, you’re right… and look at all the sweet rides that came from it.” 

* * *

They gather their food order and head back to the group to say their goodbyes, but the group appears to be packing up anyway — trunks being closed and coolers returned to their back seats. 

Davis approaches them. “Hey guys… we’re about to head out, but we’re only going over to Golden Gardens Park to watch the sunset and hang out around the fire pits. You’re welcome to join.” He nudges Dean with his elbow. “The group’s really taken a shine to you,” he says with a bright grin, “and your Baby, of course.” 

Dean turns to Cas, throwing an arm over his shoulder. “Whadda ya say, sweetheart? Our first sunset…” he shakes the bag of food in his other hand, “and dinner on the West Coast?” 

“I would love to, Dean.” Cas’ eyes are bright, his smile soft and warm and Dean really wants to kiss him right now, but… company.

“Adorable,” Davis says, hands clasped in delight. “I love how you two stay so in character.” 

* * *

The last rays of the sun slip behind the Olympic Mountains, but Dean is watching Cas watch the sunset. 

He’ll never get tired of the look of wonder on Cas’ face when he experiences new things. 

Or for that matter, the sounds he makes, either. Listening to him moan through that admittedly _fantastic_ burger was downright pornographic. 

He places a hand on Cas’ fire-warmed cheek and turns him away from the dimming horizon.

Damn the company. He’s gonna kiss his boyfriend.

He tastes the salt from the fries, the sharp vinegar of the pickles, the rich savory flavor of the burger, the lingering sweetness of the milkshake. 

He tastes the unique flavor of _Cas_ and relishes it. 

Cas threads his fingers into the hair at the back of Dean’s neck and tilts his head _just so_ and oh, it’s so, so good. 

He hears a few giggles and more than a couple “awws” and pays them no mind. 

He’s way too busy thinking about a completely different type of sweet ride.


	6. Rock and Roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final strains of When The Levee Breaks play over the speakers, followed by the hum of the cassette auto-rewinding. He feels Dean’s hand rest on his shoulder and squeeze gently.
> 
> “Babe, can you dig into the tape box and grab a new tape?” He grins. “Believe it or not, I can only listen to Zepp 4 so many times in a row.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for Suptober Day 11 - Rock and Roll.
> 
> <3 <3 <3 to my betas [Oriana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oriana1990) and [sacados](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacados).

Castiel squints against the late afternoon sun reflecting off the water as the Impala crosses the Columbia River and into Oregon. 

Dean had opted for taking Highway 101 down the coast, the scenic views being superior to that of Interstate 5, even though it would add time to their trip. It wasn’t like there was any urgency to arrive anywhere and no particular destination.

It’s like a breath of fresh air and Castiel revels in it. 

So far, the views have been spectacular and well worth the added time. Currently, they’re on the Astoria Megler Bridge, surrounded by water at the junction of where the River meets the Pacific Ocean, the sunlight sparkling on the water like diamonds strewn across a blue field. 

The final strains of _When The Levee Breaks_ play over the speakers, followed by the hum of the cassette auto-rewinding. He feels Dean’s hand rest on his shoulder and squeeze gently.

“Babe, can you dig into the tape box and grab a new tape?” He grins. “Believe it or not, I can only listen to Zepp 4 so many times in a row.” 

Castiel reaches up to squeeze the hand on his shoulder. “Of course. Any preference?” he asks, leaning forward to open the glove box and remove the cassette container within. 

Several years ago, Castiel had taken it upon himself to replace the dilapidated cardboard box the tapes had previously been held in with a more sturdy wooden box, complete with a liner that held the cassettes in a more orderly fashion. 

“Surprise me.” 

Castiel peruses the titles written in Dean’s distinctive scrawl (or John’s, on some of the older tapes). He’s about to reach for Bon Jovi’s _Slippery When Wet_ when his eyes fall upon something he doesn’t recall adding to the box - the tape Dean had gifted him before he left to track down Kelly Kline, to find her and take her and her unborn nephilim son to Heaven - before Jack had shown him the future while still in the womb and convinced him to spare them. 

The writing on this tape, while still recognizable as Dean’s, was much neater than the surrounding tapes. The care taken warms Castiel’s heart as much as it did when Dean had given it to him. Of course, along with the warmth comes the painful memory of when he tried to give it back in order to steal the Colt. Dean had handed it back ( _It’s a gift. You keep those._ ) and Castiel had indeed kept it, but felt too guilty to listen to it for a long time afterward. The last he’d seen it was inside the glove box of the Ford pickup truck, back at the lake house where he’d been helping Kelly prepare for Jack’s arrival and where he’d been killed by Lucifer.

“Dean… where did you get this?” 

Dean glances towards him, and upon seeing the tape in his hand, his features soften.

“I found it in the truck after you… well, after you were gone. I cleared everything out of it on our way outta there and it ended up in here.” His expression turns sheepish. “Always meant to give it back to you, but I forgot it was even in there.” 

Castiel pulls the tape from the case and runs a finger over Dean’s careful script. 

It was not only the first gift he’d ever received, it was the first piece of proof that Dean cared for him. 

He’s surprised to find his eyes are damp at the memory, and absently wipes the dampness away.

Careful to not smudge the writing, he places the case back into the container, and the container back into the glove box. He slides the tape into the cassette player, smiling as the opening guitar riff of “The Immigrant Song” bursts over the car’s speakers. 

Dean’s grin matches his own as he begins to drum along with the song on the steering wheel.

“Excellent choice, sweetheart.”


	7. Rewind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big breakfast, the purr of Baby’s engine, the hum of the wheels on pavement, all conspire to make Dean sleepy. Leaning against the passenger door, he soon finds himself drifting off.
> 
> The strains of a song seep into his ears…
> 
> _Rewind… Rewind… Rewind  
>  Helpless... Skies... skies…  
> Drownin' in 'em... Drowning_  
>  __  
>  **Rewind**  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for Suptober Day 12 - Rewind
> 
> Hugs, kisses, and any desired treats to [sacados](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacados) for whipping this segment into shape.

Cas quietly sings along to the song playing through Baby’s speakers, fingers tapping on the wheel — a song from that musical… what was it… oh, yeah, _Hamilton_. Dean hasn’t seen the play (hell, hardly anyone he knows has seen it, the thing is _impossible_ to get tickets to), but Sam had picked up the soundtrack somewhere and raved about it. He must have made a copy for Cas at some point, Dean finding it among the few tapes recovered from Cas’ truck at the lake house. Dean had of course added them to Baby’s tape collection, a fond memory of Cas that made him smile every time he opened the box.

After stopping for the night in a quaint little seaside town in Oregon (“It’s called WINCHESTER BAY, Cas, we gotta stop!”) and breakfast at a nearby diner, Dean had tossed the keys to Cas. It took some convincing that yes, Dean was serious about Cas driving his baby — but it had been worth it just to see Cas’ (increasingly less) rare, bright, gummy smile. 

Cas had seen the _Hamilton_ tape when Dean pulled the tape box out to choose one for the drive, squawking in excitement (“That one, Dean! Play that one!”). Dean had protested - no way was his baby (or him, for that matter) gonna be subjected to a Broadway musical — but Cas had used his own rule against him.

“I’m the driver, Dean. I get to pick the music.” 

“Yeah, but you picked the last one we listened to.”

“That may be the case, but it is not my fault that you chose to abdicate to me your right as the driver to pick the music. I do not plan on relinquishing my right as you did.” He had waved a finger at the _Hamilton_ cassette. “Put it on, if you please. Don’t make me tell you to shut your cakehole.” 

Dean had grumbled and slid the tape home.

Now, three or so songs in, he begrudgingly admits that it’s pretty catchy. Currently, the song playing is about finding a right-hand man or something.

The big breakfast, the purr of Baby’s engine, the hum of the wheels on pavement, all conspire to make Dean sleepy. Leaning against the passenger door, he soon finds himself drifting off.

The strains of a song seep into his ears…

  


_Rewind… Rewind… Rewind Helpless... Skies... skies… Drownin' in 'em... Drowning_

_**Rewind** _

  


Dean is in a familiar warehouse. Sigils painted on the concrete floors and all along the corrugated steel walls. He’s sitting on a table, waiting for something. Bobby sits across from him on another table, strewn with weapons and the remnants of spell-casting.

_Waitaminute,_ Dean thinks. _I know this warehouse… I remember this night…._

  


_I remember that night I just might (rewind!) I remember that night I just might (rewind) I remember that night, I remember that… I remember that night, I just might_

_Regret that night for the rest of my days_

  


The panels of the warehouse’s roof began to shake and flap as if caught in a hurricane-force wind. Dean and Bobby jump from the tables in alarm, snatching the rifles from the tables and aiming them at the now vigorously rattling sigil-covered wooden doors of the warehouse.

  


_I remember those soldier boys Tripping over themselves to win our praise_

  


Dean looks down at the table next to him, strewn with every weapon they own. Wondering which one would be able to kill the thing coming for him, the thing that had blinded Pamela.

Castiel.

  


_I remember that dreamlike candlelight Like a dream that you can't quite place_

  


The warehouse lights burst in a shower of sparks, lighting the room in an eerie blue-white glow. The wooden beam over the doors cracks and snaps in a cloud of splinters, the doors slowly open, and a shadowed figure strides in. 

Dean and Bobby pump him full of shotgun lead, but he is unfazed and continues to approach, his figure highlighted by the sparks flying through the air — a dark-haired man in a suit and tie, trench coat flapping like wings behind him. 

  


_But Alexander, I'll never forget the first time I saw your face I have never been the same_

  


Dean is frozen in place, unable to move or speak as the man approaches. He finally manages to tear himself away, grabbing Ruby’s knife from the table.

  


_Intelligent eyes in a hunger-pang frame And when you said "Hi, " I forgot my dang name_

  


Dean turns back, knife held behind his back, and is stunned by the man before him. Wide, ice-blue eyes seem to glow from within, boring into his as if seeing directly into his soul. Hair wild, full lips pressed into a shy smile even though Dean and Bobby had just pumped him full of rock salt. 

He’s terrifying… and beautiful.

“Who are you?” Dean manages to croak.

The man speaks, his voice rumbling and dark like whiskey over gravel, eyes wide, expression earnest. “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition.”

  


_Set my heart aflame, ev'ry part aflame_

_This is not a game_

  


Even after Dean stabs him and Bobby tries to take him out with a crowbar, the man’s expression merely changes from earnest to slightly annoyed. Power pours off him as he presses fingers to Bobby’s head, watching calmly as Bobby slowly sinks to the ground. 

He turns back around. “We need to talk, Dean. Alone.”

Those beautiful blue eyes meet his, so open and earnest, and he is suddenly… 

  


_Helpless And her eyes are just Helpless And I realize_

_Three fundamental truths at the exact same time_

  


Number one: he’s a man who’s been raised to believe having feelings is a weakness.

Images flash through his mind of all the times he’s been happy with Cas, starting to allow himself to acknowledge there might be something more than friendship there — and then shutting them all down, not wanting to be weak.

Number two: he’s a man who believes he doesn’t deserve good things, or to be loved.

More images, this time of all the horrible things he’s done — going to Hell, becoming a demon, freeing The Darkness — all the people he’s killed. He’s not worthy of love, especially Cas’.

Number three: He might be all these things, but he would do _anything_ to make Cas happy — and that means accepting the fact that maybe he _is_ worthy, if Cas thinks him so. 

All the times Cas has been there for him; always returning, always accepting. Even when he’d had enough of Dean being stupid and bullheaded and finally walked away from him, all it took was a heartfelt prayer and Cas was back at his side. Just wanting him to be happy, and to accept that he was deserving of happiness. 

  


_To the groom!_

_To the groom, to the groom, to the groom_

_To the bride!_

_To the bride_

_To the bride (to the bride) May you always_

_Always_

_Be satisfied_

  


Dean is suddenly in a beautiful garden, green grass under his feet, dressed in white. 

He looks up — he’s surrounded by all his loved ones, living or dead. And just past them all, Cas is waiting, practically glowing in a matching white suit. 

Wait, what? Is this a hint, his subconscious trying to tell him something…

* * *

_Should I? Should I ask Cas to marry me?_

_I’ve known it, this whole time… it’s been there, even from all the way back in that warehouse..._

“Why would an angel rescue me from Hell?”

Cas’ expression had grown soft, concerned as he stepped closer. “Good things do happen, Dean.”

Dean swallowed, his heart stuttering at the angel’s proximity. 

“Not in my experience.” 

Castiel’s head tilted in confusion, the blue eyes filled with sadness and disbelief. 

“What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved?”

 _Cas told me I deserve good things, even after all I did to him_ — _having to go to Hell to rescue me just to have me shoot him, stab him_ — _and still thinking I deserved to be saved._

_I deserve Cas. I believe it now. Finally._

* * *

Dean wakes with a start, and Cas glances over at him, smiling and reaching an arm to steady him.

“Welcome back. Did you rest well?” His voice, soft and so full of love, cause Dean’s to stick in his throat. 

Swallowing, he hears himself croak out, “Cas, marry me.” 

Realizing what he just said, Dean groans and closes his eyes, mortified. That was _not_ how he planned on asking.

But Cas is completely unfazed by Dean’s outburst, his hand sliding from Dean’s shoulder to his hand, picking it up and raising it to his lips. 

“Of course I will, Dean. I thought you’d never ask.” 


	8. Ladies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Next exit, Dean.” 
> 
> Cas is keeping his voice carefully neutral, projecting calm - but Dean knows better.
> 
> Cas is _beside himself_ with excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for Suptober Day 13 - Ladies.
> 
> If you like this chapter, thank my betas [Oriana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oriana1990) and [sacados](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacados). They make everything better.

“Next exit, Dean.” 

Cas is keeping his voice carefully neutral, projecting calm - but Dean knows better.

Cas is _beside himself_ with excitement. 

* * *

They had stopped for lunch at a little diner in Myers Flats the day before, when Dean realized how close they were to the giant redwoods. They had finished their meal and then spent the rest of the day driving the Avenue of the Giants, stopping at several locations to explore or take pictures; even driving through the Shrine Drive-Thru Tree (which of course, Dean had to get a picture of Baby parked inside the Tree, immediately sending it to Sam). 

It had been a wonderful day, spent amongst beautiful ancient trees - but inside, Dean was _freaking out_. 

_Fuckin’ dumbass. How could you have just BLURTED it out like that??_

It’s not that Dean regretted the question — not by a long shot — and he was absolutely over the moon Cas’ response. 

But the _way_ it had come out… UGH. 

So, while outwardly Dean had enjoyed the drive and the trees — and Cas among the trees (“Some of these trees are over _two thousand years_ _old_ , Dean!”) — internally, he had been desperately trying to figure out a way to correct his incredible proposal faux pas. 

Adding to his anxiety over the whole thing — Cas hadn’t mentioned it again. 

Not a peep. Not a word. 

They had spent the night in a cozy little cabin at a motor lodge in Phillipsville, both so exhausted they fell asleep almost as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

The next morning, Dean had been awakened by Cas coming back in the room, two steaming cups of coffee and some danishes from the motel office in his hands — and positively vibrating with excitement. 

Setting the coffee and danish on the nightstand, Cas had thrust a brochure at him.

“While I was waiting for the coffee to finish percolating, I struck up a conversation with the proprietor,” Cas explained, “and when I mentioned we were headed south she informed me about a large concentration of wineries near our route. She showed me a rack of informational pamphlets on these wineries, and I found this one!” He’d gleefully pointed at the name on the brochure — Beehave Winery. “They make _mead_ there, Dean!” 

Dean vaguely recalled the term — isn’t that what they drank at Camelot or something? 

Cas correctly interpreted the look on his face — “Honey wine, Dean!” He’d plucked the brochure from Dean’s hand, opened it and thrust an eager finger at the text inside. “And they have their own beehives!”

Well, beehives. Of course they were going to stop there. 

Cas must have taken Dean’s silence as protest, his eyes dropping and his voice taking on a pleading tone. 

“I know it’s farther inland, and that you wished to turn off onto Highway 1 in Leggett.” Cas knew Dean’s route better than Dean did at this point. “And I know you prefer beer to wine...”

Dean had reached a hand to Cas’ chin, lifting it up to look into his eyes. “Hey, hey… it’s fine!” He dropped the brochure on the bed and stood, gathering Cas into his arms. “This trip isn’t just about _me_ , sweetheart. We can do whatever we want.” 

Cas buried his face into Dean’s neck and sighed happily. “So, we can go see the bees, then?”

Dean had laughed and pulled away, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. “Of course we can. Wine has alcohol, I can get behind that.” 

* * *

Cas peers at the map on the brochure, brows pinched in concentration.

“Turn left onto Silverado Trail.”

Dean takes the exit and turns left, following Cas’ directions. They pass a number of wineries with names like ‘Black Stallion Winery’ and ‘Reynolds Family Winery’, or fancier ones like ‘Signorello Estates’ and ‘Clos du Val’. Parking lots full of cars and wine tour buses, the road lined with grape vines as far as the eye can see. 

“There! There it is!” Cas points excitedly at the sign for the winery by a small road leading up to a cluster of buildings. Dean turns onto the side road and up to the parking lot, pulling into a spot next to another of the ubiquitous wine tour buses. 

Cas hops out of the car and comes around to the drivers side, opening Dean’s door and all but pulling him from the car in his eagerness. Dean laughs and squeezes Cas’ hand, slowing him down so he can close and lock the Impala. 

“Calm down, angel. The bees aren’t going anywhere.” 

As they approach the group of buildings, the buzz of voices reaches them, light and happy. They follow the sound to the tasting room, where a small but enthusiastic crowd is gathered around a long counter. A… bartender, Dean guesses… pours a light amber wine into an empty wine glass, passing it to one of the waiting customers, a bubbly blonde. A second bartender pours her companion — a slight, salt-and-pepper haired woman — a darker reddish wine. They turn to each other and tap the glasses together with a bright _clink_. 

“Cheers, Jodes!” 

Dean stops dead in his tracks, his arm yanked hard by Cas whose attention was on the corner of the room full of bee and honey paraphernalia. 

“Dean…?” Cas turns to see what brought Dean up short and follows his gaze.

“Is that… Sheriff Mills and Sheriff Hanscum?” 

The ladies turn towards them… and it’s Jody who recognizes them first.

“D-Dean? Dean Winchester?” she says, stammering in surprise.

“What about Dean?” Donna asks before following Jody’s shocked gaze. “Oh my! DEANO!” 

She all but launches herself at him, Dean dropping Cas’ hand just before she envelopes him in a huge bear hug. 

Cas manages to grab the wine glass from her hand before it ends up all over Dean’s back, as Jody approaches at a more sedate pace. “And Castiel!” Jody says, a big, if somewhat surprised, grin on her face. “What brings you boys to Napa Valley?” She quickly lowers her voice. “You boys on a case? Where’s Sam?” 

Dean extricates himself from Donna and turns to give Jody a warm hug. “No, no case — Cas and I are on a road trip,” he says, laughing at the expression on Cas’ face as Donna squishes him as well. He rescues Donna’s wine glass from Cas in turn, and hands it back to her when she’s done mauling Cas to death. 

A flurry of conversation erupts: “Fancy meeting you here!” “What are you ladies doing out here?” “How are you boys?” “Dean and I are doing quite well, thank you.”

“So, where’s Sam?” Jody asks again, her and Donna accompanying Dean and Cas as they head to the counter to get their own glasses of wine. 

“He and Eileen are… hunting. Yeah, that’s it.” Dean waggles his eyebrows at Jody. 

Donna bursts into a gale of laughter. “Oh I betcha that’s what they’re doin’! C’mon, get some wine and let’s go find a place to catch up.” 

Dean gets a glass of the dark red wine, Cas a glass of mead, and they head to a table in the corner, away from the noise of the bar.

“So, what are you doing here?” Dean repeats his earlier question.

“Oh, we’re here on a wine retreat — ‘Cops and Corks’.” Donna jabs a thumb back at the group gathered around the bar. “I dragged Jodes here last year and we liked it so much, we came back!” She points between him and Cas. “What’s this I hear about a road trip?” 

“There hasn't been very much activity since Chuck left,” Cas explains. “There’s still the occasional hunt but Sam and Eileen took the last one, and Dean was bored.” He takes a sip of the mead and his eyebrows raise.

Dean chuckles. “Like that, do ya, sweetheart?” His eyes immediately go wide as he realizes he just outed themselves... to Jody and Donna. 

The ladies don’t even blink an eye. “That’s really great,” Jody says, her voice warm. “You guys deserve it.” 

Dean isn’t sure if she’s talking about the trip… or his inadvertent admission. 

But would it be such a big deal if they _did_ know? Donna and Jody are family. And Dean is done hiding his affection… his _love_ … for Cas. 

He reaches for Cas’ hand and gives it a squeeze. Cas turns and the smile he gives Dean lights up the room. 

The conversation continues on from there — the girls are doing well; Alex has finished nursing school and is doing her residency now, Patience is still having visions but not as much anymore, she’s off to college and excelling at it, and Claire is still… well, Claire. Still going on the occasional hunt, still missing Kaia. Cas’ face falls at this news and vows to visit with her, turning to Dean for support and Dean nodding in agreement. 

And for some reason, the motion of Cas looking to him like that brings back the anxiety of the botched proposal.

Their wine glasses are empty, and Dean sure could use another (although he’ll never admit to actually _liking_ it — if asked, it’s just alcohol. But it’s actually pretty tasty). “Who’s up for another round? I”m buyin’.” Donna and Cas are in deep conversation over the effectiveness of knives over guns, but both absently raise a quick hand. 

Jody tilts her head, her look inscrutable. “Sure, I could use another. Need a hand?”

Dean realizes that yes, he _could_ use a hand — and not just with the wine. He nods and they set off towards the bar, empty glasses in hand. 

“So spill, Winchester. What’s eatin’ you?” Jody asks as soon as they’re out of earshot.

Dean swallows nervously. “Well, I kinda spilled the beans about me and Cas back there…” 

Jody takes both wine glasses in one hand and places her free one on his bicep, giving a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, and I’m glad.” She snorts and drops her hand. “And frankly, it’s about damn time.” She arches an eyebrow at him. “So, what of it?” 

They reach the bar and place their orders. Dean sighs. 

“Jody, I fucked up.” 

Jody’s brows pinch in concern. “How so?” She looks back at the table, and Dean follows her gaze. Cas looks up at them, gives him a soft smile and a wave. Dean waves back, his heart in his throat. 

Damn it, he loves Cas so much. How could he have fucked up so bad?

“Doesn’t look like he thinks so.” 

Dean turns back to Jody, shoulders sagging. “Jody, I proposed to him.” 

Jody’s eyes light up and she lightly punches his arm. “You dog! Congrats!” Then her face falls. “Oh, shit… he said yes, right?” 

“Yeah, he said yes.” 

Jody squints, puzzled. “So, how did you fuck up?” Her eyes grow hard. “You better have meant it.”

Dean’s eyes snap to hers. “Yeah… hell, yeah, I meant it!” He bites his lip and sighs. “But… I just _blurted it out_ , Jody. No grand gesture, no nothin’. Just ‘Cas, marry me’. _Ugh_.” 

He startles at Jody’s sudden peal of laughter, then grabbing his arm. “Oh Dean, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.” She stops laughing but her eyes are still dancing. “Ok, so.., he said yes, didn’t he?”

“Yeah….?” 

“Then you _didn’t fuck up_ , Dean!” She gives his arm another squeeze. “You did just fine!” 

“But…”

“ _No ‘buts’_ ,” she cuts him off sternly. “He said yes. You’re golden.” 

“Jody, he hasn’t said anything about it since I asked.” Dean feels a pang in his chest — saying it out loud making his anxiety all that more real.

She shrugs. “Dean, he’s an ex-angel, they’re very literal creatures. He probably thinks it’s a done deal.” Then, a chuckle. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he thinks you’re married already.” 

Dean gives a wan laugh and picks up his and Cas’ refilled wine glasses. Jody grabs hers and Donna’s, and they head back to the table. 

The uncertainty is backing off some but there’s still some lingering doubt, and Jody’s mom instincts must pick up on it.

“Listen, Dean. Just because you asked and he said yes, doesn’t mean you can’t ask again — you could still do the grand gesture if it’s what you want to do.” She jostles his arm with an elbow. “I’ve seen how he looks at you, I’m pretty certain you’ll get the same answer.” 

They rejoin Cas and Donna at the table. Jody hands Donna her glass and takes a sip from the other. 

Dean sets his and Cas’ wine glasses down and spins Cas around, pulling him into his arms. 

“Love you, Cas,” he murmurs into his ear.

Cas squeezes Dean back. “I love you too, Dean. Always.” 

“Ohmigosh, you two, get a room!” Donna chortles loudly, and Jody almost chokes on her wine. 

Dean feels every bit of anxiety and uncertainty drain from him, and he laughs joyfully, leaning back in Cas’ arms. Cas’ smile is warm and wide, his eyes shining. 

Releasing him but keeping an arm on Cas’ waist to hold him close, Dean raises his glass. 

“To friends and family,” he intones, then looks into Cas’ bright eyes. 

“And to the future.” 

He hears the glasses click as Donna, Jody, and Cas tap their glasses to his raised one, but he only has eyes for Cas. 


	9. Fun and Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They reach the highway, and Castiel is floating merrily along, watching the scenery blur by — when he’s shaken out of his reverie by a sharp punch to the shoulder.
> 
> “PUNCH BUGGY, GREEN!” Dean exclaims, jabbing a finger at a car just ahead of them on the highway, a green Volkswagen Beetle, circa 1972 if Castiel’s guess is correct (and it usually is; he has, as Dean calls it, “an absolutely ridiculous gift” for identifying automobile makes, models, and years). But it has never caused Dean to physically assault him before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for Suptober Day 14 - Fun & Games.
> 
> Hugs and Kisses for my betas, [Oriana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oriana1990) and [sacados](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacados). Go check out their stuff, they're amazing.

Castiel gives a final wave to Jody and Donna as they board their winery tour bus with their fellow officers. They’re headed to their next winery, but Castiel and Dean are heading back to Petaluma for the night — Dean wants to be near the 101 so they might cross over the Golden Gate Bridge when they resume their journey in the morning. 

The tour bus pulls out of the parking lot and turns up the Silverado Trail, Jody and Donna leaning out of the window for a final wave goodbye. Raising his hand toward them as they pull out of sight, Dean then pulls Castiel towards him and pecks him lightly on the forehead.

“Did you want to drive again, sweetheart?” 

Castiel shakes his head. “I’m too impaired to drive, Dean,” he starts, then pauses, studying Dean’s face with slightly bleary eyes. “Are you sober enough to drive? Perhaps we should find somewhere close by to stay the night instead…” Glancing around, he sees nothing but grapevines and the occasional farmhouse or adjacent winery. “Although ‘close by’ might end up being further than you could manage. Should we instead call an… what is it — Tuber or Luber or something — and come back for the Impala in the morni…”

Dean, laughing, cuts him off with a quick press of lips to his own. “I’m fine, Cas. I only had a couple glasses, you practically had the whole bottle and then some.” Dean’s eyes, verdant in the late afternoon sun, crinkle in the corners with merriment, and Castiel is utterly entranced by them; until he’s distracted instead by his full, plush, extremely kissable lips, now twisting up in barely contained amusement. “And, it’s ‘Uber’, babe.” No longer able to hold it in, he laughs again. “Although there might be a market for ‘Luber’ — getting your freak on in the back seat while someone drives you home!” 

Castiel wrinkles his nose in mock distaste. “Dean, that is an abhorrent idea.” 

Dean doubles over in gales of laughter. Castiel sighs and makes a show of rolling his eyes, but finds himself chuckling right along. Dean recovers and pulls Castiel close for another brief kiss before spinning him around and pushing him gently towards the Impala. “Let’s get going. We can stop and get some dinner and find a place to crash for the night.” Reaching the passenger side of the Impala, Castiel meets Dean’s eyes over the top of the car, and Dean waggles his eyebrows.

“We get there early enough, maybe I’ll call a Luber.” 

Castiel rolls his eyes for real this time but doesn’t grace that absurdity with a response, climbing into the Impala. Dean joins him a second later, still chuckling.

He’s absolutely insufferable when Castiel is drunk.

Castiel sighs. He didn’t use to get drunk this easily. Before, it took entire liquor stores; now it only takes a single bottle of wine.

As Dean starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot, Castiel pulls out one of the bottles they purchased to examine the label. 12.5 percent ABV. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but of course, he’s mostly human now, with no grace to buffer the effects of the alcohol. But he finds he doesn’t really mind; it’s a rather pleasant feeling — fizzy and floaty and glowing. 

They reach the highway, and Castiel is floating merrily along, watching the scenery blur by — when he’s shaken out of his reverie by a sharp punch to the shoulder.

“PUNCH BUGGY, GREEN!” Dean exclaims, jabbing a finger at a car just ahead of them on the highway, a green Volkswagen Beetle, circa 1972 if Castiel’s guess is correct (and it usually is; he has, as Dean calls it, “an absolutely ridiculous gift” for identifying automobile makes, models, and years). But it has never caused Dean to physically assault him before.

“I’m sorry, what?” Castiel fixes a puzzled glance at him. 

“It’s a game!” Dean says gleefully. “You see a VW Bug, you gotta punch the other person and yell ‘punch buggy’ and the color of the Bug. First person to the punch wins.” He grins. “Sam and I used to play it all the time when we were kids, drove Dad nuts.” 

_Well_ , Castiel thinks, _it seems to be an effective cure for inebriation_ , the fuzz clearing from his head as he begins to intently scan the surrounding area. 

Castiel is nothing if not competitive. 

His persistence pays off, as he spies a red 2006 Beetle on the other side of the highway and slugs Dean’s arm.

“Punch buggy, red!” he declares triumphantly.

“No way, man. Newer bugs don’t count. Has to be a classic Beetle, before 1998.” Dean smirked and lifted his hand, forming a fist. “I get to punch you back now.” 

Castiel fumes at this seemingly arbitrary rule, but prepares for the blow, tensing and closing his eyes. 

The blow never comes. 

He opens his eyes, glancing over at Dean, and sees his hand resting back on the steering wheel, a devious grin on his face. 

“Tell you what. All Bugs apply,” and the devious grin widens as he glances over to meet Castiel’s eyes. “But for post-1998 Bugs, instead of punching the other person, you have to give them a kiss.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Hardly a punishment, Dean. Besides, it will be very hard for you to kiss me while you’re driving.” 

Dean nods sagely. “Very true. So we’ll keep count, and whoever catches the most New Bugs…” He pauses dramatically, the smile downright demonic now, “gets to decide what... game... we play tonight.” 

Now _this_ is a challenge Castiel can get behind.

“Very well, Dean. I accept your terms.” 

“Oh, it’s on, babe. On like Donkey Kong!” 

* * *

Dean cheats, as he does; but it’s not enough to combat Castiel’s millennia-long experience with intense observation. Even having Castiel find them a motel for the night (“Sorry, sweetheart, _someone_ has to do it, and I’m driving”), by the time they arrive, Castiel claims a final Bug, pushing his count over Dean’s. 

“Victory is mine,” he says as Dean turns the key in the lock and opens the door to their room, “and to the victor go the spoils.” He enters after Dean, closing the door behind them, then grabs Dean’s arm, pulling him back around and pushing him against the door, pressing him against it with his body.

From the pocket of his hoodie, he pulls out a small jar of honey he purchased at the winery, brandishing it before Dean’s wide, surprised eyes.

“Hello, spoils.” 


	10. Third Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little break from the road trip for a quick look back at the bunker to see what Sam and Eileen are up to... wherein Sam sees things he never, EVER wanted to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for Suptober Day 15 - Third Eye.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Sam/Eileen, quick mention of Cas and Dean doing inappropriate-for-family-viewing things.
> 
> All the hot choccie and cookies for my awesome betas, [Oriana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oriana1990) and [sacados](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacados). Y'all are thebomb.com.

Eileen taps Sam on the shoulder, startling him away from frowning at his phone. Signing, she asks him what’s wrong.

 _Nothing_ , he signs back; and then he sighs, looking back down at the phone in his hands. 

Eileen takes the seat across from him, hunching down to catch his gaze. “Bullshit,” she says. “What is it?”

“He’s not answering his phone.” 

Eileen reaches across the table and grasps Sam’s hand. “They’re on a road trip, spending some time together.” She gives him a saucy smile. “You know, like the one we just returned from?” 

Sam grins at her smirk. “I know, I know. But,” he slides his phone across the table, his Messages app open. “I got a text from Donna saying they somehow ran into Dean and Cas at a winery in Napa.” 

Eileen reads the message from Donna, her eyes growing wide. “That’s… quite the coincidence,” she says, looking back up at him and sliding his phone back across.

“Right? But you saw what she said… Cas looked pretty trashed, and Dean might have been driving but he had been drinking as well.” He scrolled through the unanswered text messages to Dean. “I’m just worried they might have gotten into an accident.” 

His finger pauses in mid-swipe as an idea occurs to him.

“But… I might have another way of checking on him.” He stands and heads towards Room 7B, where all of the magical paraphernalia recovered from Rowena’s house was stored. 

“Sam… wait.” Eileen jogs after him, grasping his arm to turn him around. “What are you going to do?”

Sam grins.

“I’m going to see if I can find a scrying spell.”

* * *

Sam sits at the storeroom table, the box containing all of Rowena’s journals sitting on the table next to him, and rifles through them, searching for a spell. On his other side is the stack he’s already gone through — five deep now. 

He knows Rowena typically used astral projection to spy on Crowley or her fellow witches, but with the breadth of knowledge she had accumulated in her extremely long life, he’s fairly confident she must have written down a scrying spell somewhere. 

Eileen had made it known she thought this might not be the best idea (“It’s an invasion of privacy, Sam.”) but when he explained that he was just going to use it long enough to make sure they were okay, she nodded and picked up one of the journals to help him search. Her stack was up to three and scanning her fourth when she stopped and tapped his arm.

“Sam, wait… I think I’ve found one.” Shoving the book across the table towards him, open to the page she’d been reading, she jabs a finger at a passage written there. “This one might work.”

Sam snatches the book up eagerly, reading through the spell, checking the ingredients required. He looks up from the page and grins.

“This looks like it might work — _and_ we have all the ingredients!” Sam leans across the table to give Eileen a kiss in thanks, then stands and heads to the shelves full of ingredients to gather the items necessary for the spell. 

Eileen places the journals back into the box and reshelves it before leaving the room. Sam watches her go, puzzled. Shrugging, he gathers the necessary ingredients and places them in a copper bowl. He returns to the table with the bowl in one arm and a highly polished, round obsidian mirror in his other hand. As he’s removing the contents of the bowl and placing them on the table, Eileen returns with a steaming tea kettle, teacup, and a stubby white pillar candle. 

Setting the items down, she picks up the journal with the spell and reads the instructions aloud.

“The first part is to prepare the mirror to receive images.” 

Following her instructions, Sam mixes the ingredients in the bowl, and setting a match to it, mutters the words listed on the page Eileen holds up for him. The obsidian mirror flashes briefly, a swirling mist flowing over it, then returns to its original state.

“Alright, part two.” Sam sets the obsidian mirror up on its stand, then lights a candle and places it in front of the mirror so that it’s reflected within. 

“And here’s part three.” Eileen, who has been adding other ingredients into the teacup, pours hot water from the teakettle and hands it to him. “The tea that will open your Third Eye.”

Sam nods his thanks and, blowing on the hot liquid to cool it, downs the drink. It is, of course, disgusting. “Blech,” he says when he’s done, setting the cup down. “Why do spells always make you drink disgusting stuff?” 

“Probably to discourage you from doing them,” Eileen responds with a laugh. 

Sam snorts. “You’re probably right.” He rubs his hands together and nods at Eileen. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Turning to face the mirror, he focuses on the candle flame’s reflection in the mirror, and thinks of Dean.

What he looked like the last time he saw him — his smile; his eyes crinkled in laughter, teasing him as he and Eileen were about to head out on their… hunt, yeah.

Slowly, an image begins to form in the mirror.

But as the image starts to coalesce, the sound reaches him first; sounds being made with his brother’s voice.

And they’re sounds he NEVER, EVER wanted to hear his brother make.

“Oh… oh no….” Sam gasps, as the image in the mirror snaps into focus — Dean laid out on a bed, on his back, naked as a jaybird; white-knuckled hands grasping the headboard above his head. 

Castiel on top of him, riding Dean for all he’s worth.

Sam immediately blows out the candle and slams the mirror face down.

“Oh my Go…” Sam cuts himself off, then turns to look at Eileen, who’s doubled over in laughter.

“SERIOUSLY?”

Eileen gets herself back under control enough to rise but not enough to talk.

 _At least you know he’s alright_ , she signs with shaking hands.


	11. Switch It Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hello, spoils.”
> 
> Dean barely has time to kick off his shoes and register the door being closed behind him before he’s effortlessly spun around and pressed against it. The gasp that escapes him is most certainly due to the air being driven from his lungs by Cas’ body, not at all from how completely _hot_ it is that Cas can so easily manhandle him against the door.
> 
> And _definitely_ not from Cas’ statement being growled against his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for Suptober Day 16 - Switch It Up.
> 
> This is the chapter that earns the EXPLICIT rating, frands! 
> 
> Hugs to [Oriana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oriana1990) and [sacados](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacados) for making this so much better.

“Hello, spoils.”

Dean barely has time to kick off his shoes and register the door being closed behind him before he’s effortlessly spun around and pressed against it. The gasp that escapes him is most certainly due to the air being driven from his lungs by Cas’ body, not at all from how completely _hot_ it is that Cas can so easily manhandle him against the door.

And _definitely_ not from Cas’ statement being growled against his ear. 

That deep, rumbling voice vibrates straight to his cock; and the tone of _command_ would have had him on his knees were it not for Cas… _Castiel’s_ … leg placed firmly between his.

“Ah, ah, sweet boy,” Castiel purrs darkly into his ear, his hand moving from the door to grasp the back of Dean’s neck, long fingers digging into the short hair there, “can’t have you dropping to your knees here, you’ll damage _my_ property.”

Dean’s eyes fall closed as his mouth drops open, and he most certainly DOES NOT whine. 

OK, maybe a _little_ whine. So sue him. 

“Open your eyes, Dean.” 

Dean’s eyes snap open, and it’s then he sees the object in Castiel’s hand. 

An adorable bear-shaped bottle filled with — honey? What is he going to do with honey?

He doesn’t have long to contemplate as Castiel moves back and to his side, the hand on his neck guiding him to the bed. The bottle is set on the nightstand, then Castiel reaches for a pillow, tossing it on the ground by Dean’s feet at the edge of the bed. 

No words are needed — a small squeeze and a gentle nudge from the hand on his neck, and Dean’s knees hit the pillow, wrists automatically clasped behind his back. 

“Good boy.” Dean shudders involuntarily from the praise. Castiel slides his hand from Dean’s neck and through his hair, petting him while gently pushing his forehead to the edge of the bed. “Rest now, and don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Reaching down into Dean’s pocket, Castiel pulls out the keys to the Impala and steps away, followed by the sound of the motel room door opening and closing. 

The room door opens again, and Dean first hears the dull thud of a duffle bag dropping to the floor, followed by the rustle of fabric against plastic — the garment bag with their “Fed Suits” — moving past him. Castiel’s footsteps retreating in the direction of the closet. The closet door squeaks open, the garment bag’s hanger clinks on the hanger rod, the door squeaking closed again; then Castiel is behind him, fingers running through his hair and around to brush his cheek. Dean leans into the touch, barely breathing. 

“So good for me.” 

Castiel turns, and then the bed by Dean’s head sinks slightly as Castiel sits next to him. Castiel’s hand moves to Dean’s other cheek, rising to card idly through his hair. His hand slides around to Dean’s chin, lifting it so that he’s looking directly into Castiel’s eyes.

“Here is the game I would like to play, Dean. I purchased the bottle of honey at the winery, thinking it would be good for toast or with peanut butter sandwiches, but when I won your game, I had a much better idea for it.”

His lips turn up into a feral grin, and butterflies take flight in Dean’s stomach. 

“I would like to see how it tastes on _you_ , first.” 

Okay, yes, that was definitely a whine this time. Dean is far too excited at the prospect to care, and his dick is fully on board. 

“Will you indulge me, sweet boy?” Dean’s head does its best impression of a bobblehead doll, and he’s rewarded with Castiel’s face lighting up like a kid at Christmas. 

Standing, Castiel presses a hand gently on the back of his head, a clear indication that he’s to return to leaning against the bed; he does so, closing his eyes and focusing on the sound of Castiel’s movements. 

He hears a cabinet being opened, water poured into a container and then set into the microwave. Footsteps disappear into the bathroom as the microwave hums, then return as the microwave dings. Castiel pops the microwave door open and closed again, and then he’s back beside Dean again, a soft clatter as something is placed on the nightstand. 

Dean opens his eyes and steals a glance — the bear-bottle of honey is sitting in a bowl, presumably the one filled with water and microwaved. A washcloth lies folded next to it. 

Castiel glances down and catches Dean looking; Dean flinches but Castiel only smiles. 

“I believe it will be a more enjoyable experience for you if the honey were warmed first.”

 _Oh hell yes_.

Castiel turns to Dean, carefully pulling him up, Dean thankful because his feet had started to tingle despite the pillow. Castiel then begins to undress him, slowly, like he’s unwrapping a present; gently pushing Dean’s hands away when he tries to help. The flannel overshirt slides from his shoulders and is draped over a nearby chair, followed by his favorite Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Castiel runs his fingers lightly down Dean’s chest toward the waistband of his jeans, goosebumps popping along his skin in their wake, then unhooks his belt and pulls it free from the belt loops with a crack, sending a shiver through Dean’s body. The belt joins the shirts and Castiel’s hand returns to cup the very distinct bulge in the front of Dean’s jeans, pulling a desperate moan from him. 

“So eager,” Castiel breathes against his lips and gives Dean’s cock a squeeze, his smile growing wider at the gasp it produces. Releasing it, he pops the button and slowly, tauntingly slides the zipper down. Both hands now at the waistband, Castiel begins to pull the jeans and boxers down, sinking to the floor with them, his breath hot against Dean’s skin as his lips kiss and suck a path down his body. 

Castiel is on his knees in front of Dean, his lips a hair's-breadth from his now rock-hard cock, his breath hot against it but not touching; Dean feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. He actually jumps when Castiel reaches for his hand and places it on his shoulder for leverage, tapping the inside of his calf to get him to raise his leg to slide the jeans, boxers, and sock off his foot. Castiel repeats the motion on the other side, then rises to his feet, stepping back slightly as his eyes devour Dean.

“So beautiful,” Castiel breathes, and Dean feels a wave of heat flush over him at the look of raw adoration and lust he sees on Castiel’s face.

Dean realizes that while he is completely naked, flushed and hard with arousal, Castiel is still fully clothed — and this _really needs to change_. 

But this is Castiel’s game, not his. He lost fair and square — well, sorta, since he kinda cheated a couple times — and he was honor-bound to play along.

Lost in this train of thought, he’s startled by Castiel suddenly being right in his space, hands on his bare hips and pushing him gently back towards the foot of the bed. His knees hit the edge and he loses his balance, sitting hard on the bed. Castiel places a warm hand flat on his chest and presses him down the rest of the way, his back on the bed, feet still on the floor.

Castiel scans the bed above Dean’s head and huffs in annoyance.

“How unfortunate,” he grumbles. “The headboard is flat and flush against the wall. No anchor points.” Moving to the front of the bed, Dean twists to watch him as he removes all but one pillow, placing them onto the nearby chair. The remaining one he places about a foot from the headboard, then motions for Dean to move closer, patting the pillow.

Dean scoots up to the top of the bed and lays his head next to Castiel’s hand on the pillow. 

The hand moves from the pillow to stroke Dean’s cheek, then trails fingers lightly down his neck and across his chest, pausing to sharply tweak a nipple before continuing down his body. Dean squawks in surprise, then hisses as Castiel switches from light fingertips to nails down his stomach towards his painfully hard, leaking cock. He stops just before reaching the head, swirling a finger in the small pool of precome there and lifting it to his mouth to suck it off his finger; eyes sliding shut and humming as if tasting the finest ambrosia. 

Dean forgets to breathe and his dick dribbles even more. 

Removing his finger from his mouth with a _pop_ , Castiel continues, his fingernails running down Dean’s leg, then clamps a hand around his ankle. “Stay”.

Dean swallows and nods his compliance, the idea of doing anything else never even entering his head. 

Castiel gives him an indulgent smile, then turns and heads to the closet. Opening the doors, he unzips the garment bag, revealing the beige trench coat draped over his standard navy blue suit and white shirt. Reaching into the pockets of the trench coat, he pulls out his coiled belt and blue tie before zipping the garment bag back up and closing the closet doors. 

He approaches the side of the bed and sits facing Dean, holding out his hands to show him the belt and tie.

“I was going to offer you the option of holding on to the headboard if you did not wish me to bind you to it, but as you can see, there are no handholds.” Dean nods, and Castiel continues. “What I would like to do in lieu of that is to bind you with belt handcuffs.” Setting the tie down, he loops the belt through the buckle to form a loop, then back through the buckle again to form the second loop. “Your wrists will be bound in the loops, and can be tightened by pulling on the end of the belt, here,” he demonstrates, slipping the belt on his own hands, and Dean nods again. “You will have full control of the tension by holding the end of the belt in your opposite hand, as such.” He pulls on the end of the belt, and the cuffs tighten around his wrists. “To release the tension, release the end of the belt.” He demonstrates this as well, then looks up at Dean.

“Do I have your consent to bind you, Dean? You can of course say no.” 

Dean nods, but Castiel shakes his head. “I need verbal consent, Dean.” 

After not having spoken since entering the room, Dean struggles to find his voice but manages to croak out, “Hell yes.” 

Castiel’s smile is as bright as the sun. “Thank you, Dean.” He slips the belt cuffs over Dean’s hands, placing the belt end into his hand, then raises Dean’s bound hands above his head and presses them down onto the bed. 

“Stay.”

Dean nods, pulling the belt end tight and reveling in the rush. 

“Not too tight. Release the belt end if your hands start to tingle.” Dean nods once more — then drops a pointed look towards the tie by his hip.

Cas picks up the tie, unrolling it and running it through his fingers. “And this… if you’re agreeable, I would like to blindfold you with it.” He quirks an eyebrow.

Dean swallows, _hard_ , and nods vigorously.

“Verbal consent, Dean.”

“Y...yes,” he stammers, and is rewarded with another blinding smile. 

“So, so good for me.” 

He leans over and lays the tie over Dean’s eyes, the blue silk cool against his flushed face. 

The tie he gave Cas after he returned from Purgatory the first time. 

Castiel slides the ends of the tie around his head, wrapping it around and tucking the ends in tightly. “Is that too tight?” Castiel breathes into his ear.

“N-no, Castiel.” 

Dean can no longer see, but he can feel Castiel’s lips curve up against his cheek, just before his lips brush the shell of his ear, moving across his jaw and settling over his own. Castiel kisses him, chaste and light at first, quickly dissolving to wet and hot. Dean moans into the kiss, whining and chasing after him when Castiel breaks the kiss and moves away. 

Castiel lays a hand on his forehead and gently pushes him back down, fingers trailing down over his cheek,the mattress lifting slightly as Castiel rises. The rustle of fabric, the slight thud of his jeans hitting the floor tells Dean that Castiel is _finally_ getting naked, and he silently curses the unfairness of not getting to watch it happen.

Suddenly the bed shifts around him, followed by the warm, bare skin of Castiel’s thighs pressing on either side of his hips. He gasps as a shiver of anticipation shudders through him from the contact; and then the bed dips on either side of his head.

“Are you alright, Dean? What’s your color?” Cas’ lips brushing against his ear send a fresh set of shivers down his spine.

“‘M fine. Green, so fucking green.” 

Cas’ dark chuckle vibrates against his ear, and the next moment Castiel’s lips are on his again, tongue insistently pressing past them and Dean sucks it in eagerly. His hands twitch in the bonds above his head, the skin where Castiel’s body presses against his tingles and burns.

Then Castiel’s lips are gone, replaced by spreading warmth across his thighs - he’s leaned back, his perfect bare ass now resting on Dean’s thighs, the hands that were on either side of his head lightly brushing down his chest, stopping to tweak his nipples again before skating down his belly, and then gone; Dean jerks and whines from the contact and the loss. The weight on his thighs shifts, becoming lighter on one side and heavier on the other, the mattress creaking softly as Cas leans in the direction of the nightstand. He hears a _clink_ and the slight sloshing of water, the sound loud in the darkness. The weight on his thighs shifts again as Castiel centers himself over Dean.

“Color, my sweet boy?” Cas asks. His voice, dark and deep, drifts towards him as if from far away. 

“Green,” Dean breathes. 

Seconds later, he yelps in surprise as a pinprick of liquid heat pools in the center of his chest and dribbles in a line down to his stomach, the honey hot but not burning, the warmth expanding as it spreads out against his skin. The weight on his thighs shifts again as Castiel leans forward; then the warm, wet pressure of Castiel’s tongue, pressed flat against Dean’s stomach, slowly slides up his body. As his tongue follows the trail of honey, Castiel’s body shifts against his and Dean breathes out a shaky moan when the hard line of Castiel’s cock slots next to his, just as his tongue laps up the last of the honey from his chest. Castiel doesn’t stop there, his tongue continuing up Dean’s neck and into his mouth, the sweet taste of the honey bursting on his taste buds as he sucks it from Castiel’s tongue, swallowing his groan as Dean ruts up against him. 

Castiel breaks the kiss and rises back up, pushing Dean gently back down when he tries to chase. 

“Patience, Dean. I’m not finished with my taste test yet.” 

Dean jerks as the pinpoint of heat returns, this time on his left nipple. Castiel spreads the honey over the nipple with his fingers, pinching and rolling it to a stiff, sticky peak, then swirling the tip of his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth. Dean cries and bucks underneath him, but a firm hand pressed on his hip stills him. The right nipple gets the same treatment, hot honey followed by the wet heat of Castiel’s mouth. 

Dean gasps and moans, his hands pulling against the belt restraints as he tries to remain still against the onslaught of Castiel’s tongue. He could just as easily let the belt end slip from his fingers and free himself, but he desperately wants to be good, wants to be Castiel’s good boy. He pulls the belt tighter, and feels himself begin to float. 

The weight and warmth settles back onto his thighs as Castiel sits back up, and Dean can feel Castiel’s eyes on him. He feels the weight of his gaze panning down his body, hears his ragged breathing. 

“So, so beautiful.” Cas’ voice, reverent and resonating, sends shivers chasing down Dean’s spine. 

“Color, my sweet, beautiful boy?”

“G-green,” Dean whimpers. 

“So very good for me,” Cas says softly, a hitch in his voice; and Dean floats higher on the praise. 

The weight moves off him completely then, reappearing further down, thighs now pressing against Dean’s knees, and he gives a high raspy cry when the warmth of the honey trickles down the length of his cock, dribbling down over his balls to his perineum. Castiel wastes no time, his tongue briefly circling Dean’s rim before sliding up and sucking his balls into his mouth. Dean keens and writhes, his hands twisting in the restraints until Castiel’s hand returns to his hip, fingers squeezing into the flesh, and he stills again, panting and whining. Castiel flattens his tongue against the base of his cock and paints a wide swath up his length, licking up the honey until he reaches the head. Dean feels the precome dribbling down onto his stomach and Castiel’s tongue lapping it up, then keens again as Castiel takes in his cock all the way down to the root. 

“Ahhhh... f-fuck… Cassss…” he babbles as Castiel slides up and then back down, starting up a steady rhythm.

Just as Dean begins to feel the pressure build, Castiel pulls off, the warmth of his body gone completely, and Dean whimpers as he floats alone in the dark. 

He hears the soft tread of Castiel’s feet moving to the door, the zipper of the duffle bag he had dropped there. Then the mattress dipping as Castiel returns, the distinctive _snick_ of a lube bottle cap. He waits eagerly for the feel of lubed fingers against his rim, opening him up… but it doesn’t come.

Instead, he hears uneven breaths next to him, little whimpers and sighs, the slick sound of lube against skin.

Dean’s head buzzes as his heart begins to pound, a fresh pool of precome dribbling from his very eager cock. 

Cas is opening _himself_ up, and this can only mean one thing. 

It’s not like they don’t ever switch it up… but it’s a pretty rare thing since Dean loves bottoming and Cas _definitely_ loves topping. 

“C-Cas?”

The bed shifts again and then Cas is straddling him, lubed fingers grasping his aching cock and slicking him up. 

“I thought I might give you a special treat for indulging me so,” Cas says, his voice low and rough. “Would you like me to ride you, my love?” 

Dean almost comes right then and there.

“Fuck… yes, Cas, _Yes_.” 

No sooner are the words out of his mouth, than Dean feels Cas line up and slide down onto his cock, slowly, letting him feel every inch. 

“Ahhhhhh ffffuuuck Caaassss... “ Dean moans, the heat of Cas’ body surrounding him, the sensation almost overwhelming, but so, so incredibly _good_. 

Cas slowly rises and falls again, then begins to pick up the pace. A few more strokes and Dean feels Cas’ chest against his, Cas’ cock hard and hot against his stomach, Cas’ lips claiming his, tongue licking into his mouth. Cas’ hands move to grasp Dean’s, threading their fingers together around the restraints, using them as leverage to shove himself back onto Dean’s cock. 

Dean feels claimed, possessed, treasured in every way possible; heart and soul floating, surrounded and consumed by the heat of Cas’ body.

Instinct and need take over, his hips thrusting up to match Cas’ rhythm; the pressure coiling in his abdomen winding tighter and tighter. 

The coil snaps, and with a high, thready cry, Dean comes, filling Cas up. 

Cas continues to move, whimpering and moaning against Dean’s neck; then with a deep, rumbling groan he follows Dean over the edge, come spurting hot and wet between them. His arms give out and he collapses down onto Dean, his breaths hard and ragged. 

Dean lies still, floating, feeling Cas’ body all around him; their breaths and heartbeats merging, aligning, and finally slowing. Then, Cas rises and Dean whimpers, missing his warmth. 

A finger traces through the combination of come and honey on his chest, and then is pressed against his lips. He sucks it in, bitter salt and bright sweetness exploding in his mouth. 

Cas slides off him and Dean feels bereft, unanchored, but not for long. The tinkling sound of dribbling water is followed by the mattress again sinking next to him, a cool cloth running over his flushed skin, cleansing and soothing. Cas washes him down completely, then he hears the cloth running over Cas’ body followed by the dim _plop_ of the washcloth returning to the bowl. There’s the _click_ of the lamp switch and then Cas’ warmth pressed against his side, grounding and anchoring him again. 

Gentle fingers pry at his hand clenched around the belt end, loosening his grip on it to remove the belt restraint and drop it to the floor, then lowering his arms to his chest and massaging his wrists and fingers. 

Cas’ lips brush lightly against Dean’s as he lifts the tie blindfold from his eyes. Dean squeezes his eyes shut as the cloth is removed, but the room is now lit only by the lights from the parking lot filtering in through the window. He opens his eyes and stares straight into endless blue, the sparse light catching in Cas’ eyes. 

“How are you, my love? Is there anything you need? A drink, something to eat...”

Dean reaches for him, his arms heavy and slow but still able to grab Cas by the waist and pull him down next to him, twining arms and legs around him, burying his face in Cas neck.

He sighs contentedly.

“Just you, babe. Just you.” 


	12. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night is cool but not cold, the asphalt of the parking lot retaining some of the heat of the day. He walks over to the Impala and sits heavily on her hood, his head falling into his hands. 
> 
> He loves Cas. It’s undeniable. And he’s pretty sure Cas loves him too.
> 
> But… he loved Lisa, right? And Cassie? 
> 
> And he screwed both of those up. 
> 
> And he’s so, _so scared_ he’s gonna screw this thing with Cas up, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give you THE PENULTIMATE CHAPTER!  
> Only one more to go after this.
> 
> Prompt fill for Suptober Day 21 - Fear
> 
> Once again, all the thanks and love and cookies to my long-suffering betas, [Oriana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oriana1990) and [sacados](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacados)

Cas lies next to him, fast asleep; his soft snores echoing in the quiet room. 

But Dean can’t go back to sleep.

Their incredible scene and the even-more-incredible sex that followed seems to have knocked Cas right out, but Dean’s mind is going a mile a minute and he can’t stop thinking about how much he loves Cas — and how badly he’s screwed everything up. 

He slides out of bed and pulls on jeans and his t-shirt, quietly so as to not wake Cas, and heads outside, carefully closing the door behind him. 

The night is cool but not cold, the asphalt of the parking lot retaining some of the heat of the day. He walks over to the Impala and sits heavily on her hood, his head falling into his hands. 

He loves Cas. It’s undeniable. And he’s pretty sure Cas loves him too.

But… he loved Lisa, right? And Cassie? 

And he screwed both of those up. 

And he’s so, _so scared_ he’s gonna screw this thing with Cas up, too. 

How can he _not_? His track record with relationships so far doesn’t give him much in the way of confidence. And even worse, just blurting out the question like that…

In his head, he hears the conversation with Jody at the winery — “He said yes, you’re golden” — but he still can’t shake the feeling that Cas had either thought it was an accident… or worse, thought he was joking.

A thought pops into Dean’s head that has his breath catching in his chest — What if _Cas_ had been joking?

Wouldn’t he have said something about it by now if it was something he actually wanted? Something he was looking forward to? 

He knows he should talk to Cas about all this… but he’s never been good at _talking_ about his feelings. He’s only ever been good at _showing_ them. 

And that hadn’t been enough in the past, had it? 

God, he is _so very_ _fucked_.

He would kill for a bottle of whiskey right now. He starts to wonder if there’s any stashed in the Impala’s trunk, remembers there are two bottles of the honey wine in the cooler in the backseat — but the keys are in the room on the nightstand, and he really doesn’t want Cas to wake up and then have to explain why he’s looking to pop a bottle of wine in the middle of the night. 

His head snaps up, driven out of his thoughts by the soft _click_ of the room door opening. Cas’ head pokes out of the door, blue eyes turning dark with worry when he spies Dean sitting on the Impala.

“Dean… Dean, are you alright?” 

“‘M fine, Cas,” the usual Winchester litany tumbling out of his mouth automatically, a knee-jerk response. “Go back to sleep.” 

At first, Dean thinks Cas is going to do exactly that. His head disappears back inside and the door closes; and irrationally, even though it seems Cas is doing just as Dean told him, the gnawing icy pit in Dean’s stomach solidifies with the click of the door.

But, of course, Cas doesn’t _ever_ do as he’s told. Mere moments later, the door opens again, and a clothed Cas emerges, walking over to the Impala to sit next to Dean. 

He thrusts a cold juice box into his hand, the tiny straw already poking out of the top.

“It’s apple, your favorite. I found it in the vending machine while you were asleep.”

The pit in his stomach loosens a bit as he takes a sip of the cool, sweet juice. It thaws a bit more when Cas’ head falls on his shoulder, his arm going around Dean’s waist to pull him close.

“This is my fault, I should have given it to you right away but you were so adamant about needing to cuddle, and I didn’t want to wake you up after finding the juice…”

Dean sets the juice box on the hood, stops Cas with both hands on either side of his face, and presses his lips to Cas’. It’s sweet and chaste, and Dean breaks it but doesn’t move far, leaning his forehead against Cas’.

“Not your fault, babe. It’s mine.” 

Cas pulls away, head tilted and eyes squinted in confusion. 

But before Dean can explain, the sky opens up and rain begins to pour. The downpour breaks him free from the icy, clawing grip of fear, and Dean begins to laugh. 

Kissing a very confused (and quickly becoming drenched) Cas once again, he grabs the juice box with one hand and Cas’ hand with the other and pulls him back into the room. 

Once inside, he sets the juice box down on the table and takes both of Cas’ hands in his own.

He takes a deep breath. “Baby, we need to talk.”


	13. But I Know That I Love You So

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cas, we need to…” he pauses, closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath before continuing. “I need to talk to you about what I asked you the other day.” 
> 
> The thread of worry snaps and Castiel’s heart plummets into the pit forming in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for Suptober Day 22 - "I cursed the gloom that set upon us, but I know that I love you so."
> 
> (Not my best-ever art, lol - I need more practice drawing, like, PEOPLE :D )
> 
> All my love, thanks, and eternal gratitude to my lovely, kind, wonderful betas, [Oriana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oriana1990) and [sacados](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacados). If you enjoyed this, a good portion of the thanks goes to them.

“Baby, we need to talk.” 

Dean’s eyes bore into Castiel’s; earnest, wide with concern and not a small amount of fear.

A thread of worry worms its way around his heart from that statement, the look in Dean’s eyes. But the increasing amount of shivering he feels through their clasped hands is far more of a problem at the moment. 

“Yes, of course… but Dean, you’re shivering.” He gently disengages a hand from Dean’s, using the other to pull him towards the bathroom and the shower there. 

“Cas, I… “ Dean starts but cuts himself off as Castiel pulls the shower door back to turn on the water. “W-what’s g-g-going on?” 

Castiel pivots back to Dean, quickly stripping him of his wet clothes as Dean’s shivering increases. The clothes are tossed in the corner, and he turns again to check the temperature of the water, which is starting to steam up the mirror over the sink. Turning it down a little so as to not scald him, he urges Dean into the shower. 

“You need to warm up or you’ll catch a cold,” Castiel says, gently pushing him under the spray, and begins to close the shower door when Dean’s hand grasps his wrist.

“Cas, g-get in h-here with me, you’re w-w-wet too.” 

Dean does have a point, Castiel notices, looking down at his own dripping clothes beginning to form a pool of water beneath him, his own shivers amplifying. He eyes the tiny tub, the showerhead just barely reaching the back of Dean’s neck and a mere few feet of room left. “The shower is too small for both of us.” He does begin to remove his sodden clothing, however, tossing it in the corner of the bathroom to join Dean’s. He’ll have to hang them up after the shower in hopes they’ll be dry enough to pack in the morning. “The steam from the shower will warm me.” He closes the bathroom door to trap even more of the warmth.

But Dean is nothing if not persistent. “Cas, c’mon, we’ll make it work.” The shower is having its desired effect, at least, as his voice is no longer shaking. The insistent tone gives way to one more pleading. “Please, Cas? I need to talk to you.” 

Castiel cannot deny him anything, especially when said in that tone of voice. He acquiesces, climbing into the shower, and is immediately pulled under the spray and into Dean’s arms. 

“There. Much better, am I right?” 

It’s very hard to deny, the warmth of the water and Dean’s proximity chasing away his own shivering. He ducks to allow the water to run over his head, warming him fully, before spinning Dean carefully around and urging his head under the water as well.

Dean sputters, pulling his head out from under the spray. “Okay, okay, I’m good now.” He brushes the excess water from his face, then places a palm on Castiel’s shoulder, the other cupping his jaw, lifting his face to meet Dean’s eyes. The hint of concern is back, and the thread of worry around his heart pulls taut.

“Cas, we need to…” he pauses, closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath before continuing. “I need to talk to you about what I asked you the other day.” 

The thread of worry snaps and Castiel’s heart plummets into the pit forming in his stomach.

This is where his worst fears come true - where Dean confirms it was a mistake, that he didn’t mean to say those words, to ask that question. He pulls his gaze away from Dean’s, staring at the wall over his shoulder. 

At least any dampness that may appear on his cheeks can be explained away by the condensation from the shower. 

“I.. I understand, Dean. It’s quite alright,” he hears himself say, as from a great distance.

“No... no Cas, you don’t.” Dean’s voice all but vibrates with apprehension — of course; Dean _does_ care for him, and he’s a kind person, not one to willingly inflict harm — “I meant every word.” 

Castiel blinks rapidly, not trusting his hearing. “Excuse me?” His eyes fall back on Dean’s, searching.

Dean’s eyes are open and honest, but he sighs morosely. “I meant every word… but God, how I wish it hadn’t come out like that.” He gives him a wan smile, his eyes falling away. “That was such a lame way to ask you.” 

Castiel’s head tilts in confusion. “I’m... not sure what you mean?” 

Dean’s head is still lowered, but Castiel can still see the flush spreading across his cheeks, the embarrassment in his voice. “It should have been so much better… on my knees, presenting a ring… something other than just... “ He pauses with a sigh, his shoulders shrugging. 

Castiel’s heart sprouts wings and soars, out of the pit of his stomach directly into his throat, where he has to choke out the words around it, fingers tilting Dean’s chin up to look into those beautiful green eyes he loves so much. “Dean, no. It was honest and perfect.” 

Those green eyes, dark with dread, begin to lighten. “But… you haven’t said anything since then…” 

It was Castiel’s turn to look down, ashamed. “I was afraid to mention it… for fear it was an accident.” He swallows, hard. “I wanted to keep on believing it was true for as long as possible.” 

Dean’s bright laughter startles him, and he jerks his head up in alarm. Dean’s eyes are dancing, lips spread in a grin full of delight. “Boy, we are just a couple of dumbasses, aren’t we?” Before Castiel can agree, Dean is on him, pressing him into the wall of the shower with a crushing, urgent kiss.

A sound bubbles up in Castiel’s chest and escapes around Dean’s lips — a small sob of relief and gratitude. His hands scrabble at Dean’s shoulders, attempting to gain further purchase there, to bring him even closer. 

Dean breaks the kiss and his head falls to Castiel’s shoulder, where soon he feels dampness there, warmer than the cooling shower water pouring on them. He gently pulls Dean’s head up to look into his face. 

Dean’s eyes glow in the fluorescent light, bright with tears. His hands capture the sides of Castiel’s face, thumbs sweeping gently over his cheeks.

“God, I love you so much, Cas,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. Then he shivers as the rest of the hot water runs out, the temperature dropping rapidly. “C’mon, we’re gonna freeze again.” Dean’s hand drops from Castiel’s face to his hand, spinning around to turn off the shower water and open the shower door to retrieve towels from the rack above the toilet, handing one to Castiel.

It quickly becomes apparent that the shower is far too small for both of them to be able to dry off there, so with an exaggerated shiver, Dean hops out and begins to rapidly dry off, Castiel following suit in the shower tub. When they’re both dry, Dean offers his hand to Castiel, drawing him out of the shower and into the room proper. He makes his way to the duffle bag by the door and fetches out two pairs of sweats, stepping into one pair before helping Castiel into the other. He then snatches the Impala keys from the nightstand and turns for the door. 

“I’ll be right back. I have an idea.” He opens the door and darts out into the rain. 

Castiel sighs and heads to fetch another towel from the bathroom.

The door bursts back open, an only slightly damp Dean re-entering with something clutched in his clenched fist. He closes the door behind him and approaches Castiel with firm footsteps. 

His hand opens and Castiel sees a ring there, a chain looped through it. “Is that… is that the ring you used to wear?” Castiel squints at the ring, beat up and scratched from years of beer bottle caps popped off with it.

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, I stopped wearing it a long time ago… it was the apocalypse and all, and I didn’t want to lose it, so I wore it around my neck for a bit, but it kept popping up and smacking me in the teeth whenever I bent over, so I put it in the glove box.” Dean’s eyes take on a far-away look, a sad smile on his face. “It was originally Mom’s — Dad gave it to her as a sorta promise ring when they first started dating, and of course she stopped wearing it when he got her a proper engagement ring.” He pries open the clasp of the chain, his hands shaking, and pulls the ring free. 

Castiel’s breath catches as Dean falls to his knees in front of him for the second time this day, the ring presented to him, pinched between Dean’s thumb and forefinger.

“Cas,” the words coming so softly Castiel has trouble hearing them over the pounding of the rain on the roof of the motel, and the pounding of his own heart. “Castiel,” Dean repeats, his voice strengthening with conviction, his eyes cast upwards, hope and love shining in them. 

“Will you make me the happiest guy alive and marry me?”

Castiel’s shaking knees give out and he falls to his knees in front of Dean, leaning forward to kiss him, wild and breathless. 

“Yes,” he says, kissing his forehead.

“Yes,” he says again, kissing his eyelid, and “yes” again when kissing the other.

Dean is laughing now, the sound filling the room with joy as Castiel continues to kiss him many more times, punctuating each with a heartfelt “Yes.” 

Dean finally stops him, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Okay, I get it, I get it!” He grabs Castiel’s hand. “Can I put this damned thing on you now before I just drop it and ravish you?” 

Castiel nods, his voice flown away with his heart, and Dean slips the ring on his finger.

Dean holds Castiel’s hand for a second longer, tilting it back and forth as the ring catches the light and bounces reflections around the room. 

“Thank you, Cas,” he whispers, then raises Castiel’s hand to his lips, kissing the ring there.

Castiel’s other hand raises to Dean’s face, tilting his head up.

“ _I felt the coldness of my winter, I never thought it would ever go. I cursed the gloom that set upon us, but I know that I love you so._ ”

Dean’s eyes squint. “Did you just quote ‘The Rain Song’ to me?”

Castiel smiles, remembering the first time he heard the song on the cassette Dean had made for him.

“You quoted it to me first.” 

They fall silent, content, and listen as the rain continues to fall, pattering on the roof. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and, that's it! 
> 
> Well, for values of "it" - that's all I managed to get written AND art'd before the end of Suptober. I still have 3 more chapters - two written and awaiting art, and one partially written and needing art. 
> 
> Sorry (not sorry) for leaving you on that SUPER SAPPY moment but it felt like a good place to stop (since I knew I would not get the rest of the work done in time to completely wrap it before the end of the month) so stay tuned as I complete the art for the next two chapters, and write/art the final chapter - all will be posted as timestamps. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! This was a true adventure - writing AND arting DAILY for almost 15 days in October. It was a true challenge, and one I probably won't do again (that is, until next Suptober HAHA). But I hope you enjoyed this.
> 
> If you enjoy all things Destiel and want to hang out with other fun, lovely, and VERY TALENTED artists and writers, come join me at the [Profound Bond Discord Server](http://discord.profoundbond.net/)! We have art! We have fic! WE HAVE COOKIES (and pie).


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